The House of Oropher
by Dorian Herestor
Summary: A collection of drabbles concerning the Princes of the House of Oropher, their births and their lives, from Tranduil's birth to Legolas's and beyond, maybe. Lots of fluff, no slash, no mary sue, nothing at all, just cute newborn elflings.Enjoy!
1. Like Father Like Son

_Disclaimer: I mean, seriously, does anyone actually read the Disclaimer? Oh, okay... All the characters belong to Tolkien, I make no profit with this piece of fanfiction. I just borrowed them for a little while. Just for fun. _

_Hope you memorized that, because I am not going to do that again._

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><p><strong>The House of Oropher<strong>

**by Dorian Herestor**

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><p><strong>Like Father Like Son<strong>

Never in Arda had there ever been something so beautiful, so perfect.

Oropher traced the outline of the newborns' cheek with the tip of his finger, completely dazzled by the bundle of sheer beauty he held in his arms.

A turf of pale hair, so soft. Chubby hands, chubby feet, so small. A pink, round face, so lovely, so cuddly. A pair of big, blue eyes, so bright, so innocent, and yet he could already feel a sharp intelligence developing beneath that wide blue gaze.

A small, pink hand grabbed the diamond pendant Oropher wore around his neck with much more strength one would expect from a four-hour-old elfling, no doubt with the intention of playing with it or sucking on it. When Oropher removed the priceless piece of jewelry from the hands of the newborn, the baby immediately voiced his displeasure at the top of his tiny lungs. Before Oropher was even aware of his actions, the shiny object was once more within the brace of a pair of chubby arms, already full of baby slobber. Only then did Oropher realize what had happened, and looked down at the happy bundle in his arms in amazement. Barely out of the womb, and this elfling already had leverage over him.

"You are going to be a clever one," he told the suckling babe. Clever, yes, and fearless. What else would this elfling be but a natural leader? After all, he was his fathers' son. His son. His one and only son.

Thranduil.

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><p><em>AN:_

_Hope you liked it. If you did, thank you. If you didn't, that's your problem._

_Also, I have no idea if Oropher walked around with a diamond pendent around his neck, nor why, but for the sake of this story, he does. After all, Thranduil's passion for shiny things had to come from somewhere._


	2. A Bitter Sweet Day

_Disclaimer: I wish I owned anything, but I don't. *sigh*_

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><p><strong>Bitter Sweet Day<strong>

From his chair, that stood on an extract a foot above the ground, Oropher could see the festivities that played out in front and around him. Wine poured into crystal chalices like water of a everlasting stream. Sweet delicacies adorned the tables and filled his peoples' stomachs. Laughter swept through the great meadow, mingling with the heartbreaking music that willed the elves to indulge in a few steps or more on the dance floor.

In many aspects, it was a perfect day. The sun shone brightly high on the sky, a gentle spring breeze graced the woods, and his people were happy, truly happy.

For Oropher, it was all bitter sweet.

How could it not be? It was his son's begetting day.

For the first time in his life, Oropher was truly aware of the passing of time. It seemed it had been only yesterday when he had held newborn Thranduil in his arms for the first time. What a sweet thing he had been. Now there he was, swinging and swirling in the middle of the dance floor, among the others, a maiden under his arm and a glass or Dorwinion in his hand, with a smile so wide and bright it set the stars to shame. Flows or eager maidens lined up and waited for a chance of a turn on the dance floor with the young Prince that had grown into a handsome male. How many of those females longed to touch and be touched by that strong warriors' body? Most of them? All of them? And when had Thranduil started drinking wine? By the Valar, had it really been that long ago when Thranduil had barely reached his knee?

Yes, he realized, it had been long ago. Centuries ago, millennia even, and yet it felt like it had been only yesterday when baby Thranduil had filled his jewels with baby slobber.

And now, there he was, an adult elf. Oropher had never known pain as sweet as that he now felt.

He flinched slightly when a strong arm was wrapped around his shoulder, interrupting his inner musings.

"Ada!" his son shouted in his ear, sendinh a shiver down his spine. "Why so gloom? You look like an elfling who has lost his pet!"

Oropher was fairly certain Thranduil was not aware that he had indirectly called himself an animal. In fact, he would have been insulted on his behalf and on that of his son, had he not detected that scent of alcohol in Thranduil's breath.

"You are drunk." He censured.

"Who, me?" Thranduil waved a dismissed hand. "No!" Pause. "Well, maybe a little. But I can still stand on one toe!"

"I am sure you can." Oropher replied, dryly. He had thought his son had been enjoying his wine a little too much.

Thranduil pulled the chair next to his father and sat down. "You know, ada," He started. "As much as I am loving this party you organized for my begetting day, I'm afraid there are two things missing."

Oropher raised his eloquent eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

"Well, first of all, you aren't dancing. All the maidens are terribly disappointed by that and had to settle for me, the second best. Secondly, last but not least, it seems that everyone has given me their gifts, everyone but you."

Oropher raised his eyebrow higher. "I helped make you. Aren't the joys of life enough a gift?"

It was a low blow, and he knew it. But the expression in Thranduil's face, watching his wine-clouded mind trying to formulate an adequate response, made it all worth it.

Before anything resembling a reply came out of Thranduil's lips, Oropher said: "Do you want your present?"

Thranduil nodded, as eager as a century-old elfling. Some things never changed. Reaching inside his robe's sleeve, Oropher revealed a small, simple wooden box, so simple in fact that it was mundane. Thranduil eyed the box, confusion, curiosity and just a bit of disappointment written across his face. Then Ororpher opened the lid, revealed what was inside, and Thranduil's jaw fell to his knees.

"Remember this?" He asked his slack-jawed son. He watched, with a thin smile on his lips and a nervous flurry inside his stomach, as his dumbstruck Thranduil reached for the chain that held the diamond that had visited his mouth so many times before, so many centuries ago, and held it against the light. The pendant's many facades broke the sunlight, creating a rainbow in its core.

It started as nothing more than a thin line on his face, but, as old memories flowed, it grew wider and wider, brighter than the sun. Light colored eyes shone bright with tears of mirth and happiness, and in the end, Thranduil let out an heartily laugh, and wrapped his arms around his father's frame.

"Remember it?" he said, crying from laughter and laughing from crying. "How could I ever forget?"

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><p><em>This one was a little longer than the previous one. Okay, much longer. Hope you didn't mind, but I'm no good with 100 words drabbles.<em>

_A thanks to Hiril Galad, Tori of Lorien and Galad Ester for the wonderful reviews, and to Lady Boots de Lioncourt for the fav. You make my days with your words of appreciation. _

_Reviews are always welcome, along with suggestions for other fics. I have a really bad writer's block right now. _

_Oh, tomorrow it's a national holliday here in Portugal, which means I have no school. It will be a jammie day for me. Be jealous ;-)_

_Dorian Herestor_


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